Page 48 of Lucky 14

I stay small and quiet when they pass, gripping my rock while my heart races. I crouch on the forest floor, waiting for signs of weakness. Just like Connor taught me.

No one shows any, which makes me angry.

I almost puke a few times, despite the fact that I finished off the vanilla protein bar. I’m fucking thirsty. And tired. I cry a few times, and as soon as I’m done, I dig my finger into my leg and clench my jaw from the pain.

I won’t give up.

After what feels like a few hours, I catch sight of the beach again. Immediately, I have flashbacks, seeing Elijah’s sad face. And that makes me stop to hurl up some stomach bile and a little bit of vanilla sludge. Then, I grip my rock so hard my fingers hurt, and I keep going. I have to keep going.

That’s when I hear it—a motor.

Freezing, I crouch, stretching the skin over the wound on my thigh.

The motor gets closer, roaring along the beach. I’m in a raised area with a good view down to the sand. I see a golf cart roaring up the beach. A golf cart that is weighed down with all kinds of things, including water bottles.

I focus. There are individual water bottles as well as gallon sizes. Also, things that look like snack foods, such as chips, pretzels, and cookies. The man driving the cart is huge and has on some sort of skull mask. My stomach sinks.

A skull mask.

Wyatt. The game master.

I look down the beach. No one else is with the man. At least, not that I can see. He continues down the beach, and I stare in hatred. That skull mask that would look good with my rock smashed in the middle of it.

As he drives, I see him reach back and shove something off the back of the cart. It lands in the sand. Then, further down, he pushes more. Water bottles.

I’m scrambling to get closer to the edge of the woods, vision narrowing on just the things in front of me. Those water bottles are mine. I’ll kill anyone who tries to take them from me.

As I near the treeline, I slow down, scanning the area. I’m hidden now, but as soon as I get out on the beach, I’ll become a target. People could see me just as easily as I saw the golf cart.

But there’s no one. The seagulls circle overhead, then swoop down to see what’s on the beach. From what I can see, it looks like a box of…mini bags of chips as well as a few bottles of water.

My hands start to tingle, making it hard to grip the rock. I need those supplies. I won’t be able to take anyone down if I’m dying of thirst.

And so, I make a run for it.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Day 3

I stare at a streak of…something on my window. It’s still dark outside, although the sky is starting to lighten. I think I’ve been here all night, I’m not sure. I’m not sure of anything anymore.

At some point, I woke from a haze, not sure what day it was. Stumbling downstairs, I learned that the ‘hunters’ were all out, playing the game. The chef had looked at me funny while busy preparing food. Asked why I wasn’t out there, too. Asked if I needed medical.

I don’t know. Do I need medical? Vaguely, I remember what happened with Kyan, and it made my face burn. I remembered the way everything floated, and I came down his throat. The best orgasm I’ve had in years.

And as I stared at the chef, his words rolled through my mind. Hunters. Hunters. The knife they gave me.

Is this some fucked up version of the hog hunt Jeremy’s dad went on? Only…I had a sickening feeling it wasn’t hogs they were hunting.

So I went back upstairs and have been staring at the smudge on the window ever since.

It can’t be. They aren’t hunting…people, are they?

But the more I think about it, the more it seems like a reality. And the more that seems like a reality, the more all I can do is stare at that one spot of old, smudged bird poop. I’m frozen.

The sky starts to lighten to gray, and as it does, the smudge starts to blend in. And as I stop being able to tell the difference between the smudge and the sky, I freak out.

What if Holland is out there? What if she’s out there being hunted because I put her there?